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“You look like a mermaid in uh–” Some of the material flopped to the floor, while another dress slithered from the top, wrapping around her throat.
“Help,” she rasped through a giggle.
“Oh, God. What have you done?” I snickered, unwinding dress after dress. “You know there’s only two of us. And I don’t think it’s cool any more to go in matching costumes.”
Elisse rolled her eyes and fluffed her hair. “And... claustrophobia healed. No, you’re not that out of date. I hated those outfits Mom used to make us wear,” she said absently.
I clenched my phone in my hand, turning it so my sister wouldn’t see the old photo I set as my screensaver. “I loved those,'' I whispered, only loud enough for myself to hear.
Fortunately, Elisse didn’t notice. “Okay, let’s not go with dark blue near that hair. You’ll look like you’re going to a formal event, not a college party, and not the velvet. You’ll never get the beer stains out.”
I blinked. “The what?”
“Oh, the amount of fluids we get on these dresses! How about...your eyes or your hair?” She held up two dresses, both blindingly bright and covered in glitter, sequins and beads. “Peacock or the beachy blue?” She fluttered an aqua dress that looked like it was made of PVC and didn’t move with her hand at all, its hem so short I didn’t think it would cover my vagina. The other was an outrageous conglomerate of sequined feathers, its sweetheart neckline plunging low, but its deep navy hem slightly longer than the other offering.
I looked longingly at the pile she already discarded. “What about those?” I said hopefully.
“Nuh-uh. My clothes, my choice. These ones. Pick,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Ah, the peacock,” I said weakly and closed my eyes, sensing disaster in the offing.
The dress was draped gently over my lap and Elisse surprised me with a kiss on my forehead. “You will be beautiful and no one will be able to keep their eyes off you. Promise,” she murmured, tousling my pony tail and unwinding the band.
“No, because they’ll be blinded,” I muttered. “Can’t I just go in jeans and a black top?”
“No, sweetie. Not for the Kingsman.” She paused and twisted one strand. “I could braid it, but you’re so gorgeous with it out, you lucky bitch,” she said with a tinge of envy.
“Like your hair isn’t stunning, or you.” I flapped a hand over my head. “Stop poking me.”
Elisse ignored me. “The Kingsman household is made up of thirty of the top sports people–females aside of course–a rock star, at least two royals, and the wealthiest, most powerful families on campus. The regular rules don’t apply to them. Not the sort everyone else lives by, anyway.”
“Must be nice,” I grumbled. “If they have no rules, why are you giving me more? I’ll sink under the weight of rules and schedules one day.” And expectations. But then some of those I tended to put on myself.
“You will be stunning. I’ll float along behind you and bask in your feathery glow. Bathroom. Come on.”
“Be careful you don’t get burned. Isn’t there like eight hours ‘til the party? Shouldn’t we eat?” I didn’t really want to be in the dress for any longer than absolutely necessary.
“It will take that long to make everything work. We can snack later.”
Spoilers: that snack? Yeah. It never happened.
Tequila did though, thankfully after Elisse was done primping and priming me like a prized poodle.
Finally, she declared me ready and made up lime shots. “Bottoms up, baby,” she cried on her third, while I finished curling the ends of her hair.
“Gorgeous, Sissy,” I said, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. My face barely moved, or at least it felt like that, beneath the millions of layers of makeup. I swore I’d never complain about the greasiness of sunscreen ever again.
“I know, right?” She twirled in the PVC dress I rejected, claiming spilled drinks would roll right off. The dress still didn’t move and, on her, it did actually cover the important bits.
I tugged at the hem of my dress, making sure it didn’t creep up my butt cheeks. “This is too short. Could I wrap a scarf around my waist?” I begged, suddenly regretting the impulse to go to the party.
I could see Nick any day of the week and write about him in my journal. Maybe even something nice. Nope, tonight was a really poor decision and I knew I was going to regret the impulse.
Stick to the schedule.
Maybe there was a reason I had rules. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing these things. Tennis came first. Maybe...
A new shot of tequila was pushed into my face. “You’re beautiful. And your odd little engineering friend will think so too,” she promised.
